


the one where they go camping

by tartymoriarty



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I'm too tired to be creative with titles sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartymoriarty/pseuds/tartymoriarty
Summary: A Supportive Boyfriend would, Freddie realises with some horror, agree to go along with Brian’s harmless idea of fun in order to make Brian happy.





	the one where they go camping

**Author's Note:**

> I want you all to know that I nearly lost this because my 7 and a half month old kitten Freddie-dumb-fuck-Mercury decided to jump on top of a cup of tea which spilled all over my laptop (and I, a fellow dumb fuck, never remember to save anything). We are a disaster team.
> 
> Without further ado: have some fluff!!

It’s Brian’s idea of fun. It is not Freddie’s idea of fun (at _all_), but Freddie has been practising being a Supportive Boyfriend recently, because the articles he reads when he should be painting all give advice on that sort of thing.

So when Brian asks him, Freddie fights back his initial reaction (revulsion, mild confusion, outright indignation) and considers what a Supportive Boyfriend would do in this very situation.

A Supportive Boyfriend would, Freddie realises with some horror, agree to go along with Brian’s harmless idea of fun in order to make Brian happy.

But it’s not a _huge_ ask, not really. It’s not like Brian’s idea of fun is going to kill them.

So he takes a deep breath and replies, “Yes, Bri, of course, I would love to go camping with you.”

Which… admittedly sounds a little bit like he is saying it under extreme duress, like Brian had pointed a gun at his head when he asked him. But still.

Brian had evidently been expecting some sort of argument, or perhaps a flat denial, because he immediately opens his mouth and says, “But – ” before the realisation that Freddie has agreed hits him. Then he takes a moment to blink, his mouth hanging open slightly, before gathering himself.

“Okay,” he says, “okay, Fred, that’s – that’s brilliant, I wasn’t expecting you to – I’ve got all the equipment already so we just need to pick a weekend.”

And he smiles, all eager and pleased, catching Freddie by the wrist and pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Thanks, Freddie,” he says earnestly. “I really think we’ll have the best time, you’ll love it, just wait and see.”

-

Roger roars with laughter when he hears what they’re doing. Freddie decides then and there that he is getting a new best friend because he hates Roger now.

“Fuck off,” he says sourly, “it’s not that funny – ”

“John,” says Roger, wiping a tear which may or may not be real from his eye, “is it that funny?”

“Yes,” says John, “it is.”

Freddie hates them both.

“I don’t know why you think I can’t cope with it or something,” he says hotly, “it’s not like I’m allergic to going outside – ”

“Oh, Fred,” Roger says, “it’s not the fact that it’s outside. It’s…”

“Everything else?” suggests John.

Roger holds up his hands placatingly when Freddie opens his mouth to snap back at them. “It’s just not you, is what we mean. You like nice things and comfort and you made Brian buy a new mattress when you moved in with him because his wasn’t soft enough for you even though it was barely a year old.”

“Will you vlog the experience?” John asks hopefully. “Use Bri’s video camera or even just your phone, I’d love to see how it goes, really – ”

“His phone will be out of charge by the time he gets there,” Roger points outs. John sighs with great disappointment.

Freddie feels a stab of panic at that – he’d not considered his phone on top of everything else – but he masks it with an effort, not wanting to give them any more reason to laugh at him.

Instead, he sticks his nose up in the air and affects the loftiest attitude he can muster. “We’re going to have a simply wonderful time,” he says with confidence he doesn’t exactly feel, but they most certainly do not need to know that. “You’ll see. I’m going to love it.”

-

Freddie does not love it. Freddie does not love it at all.

He’s perched on the passenger seat of Brian’s car, door open and legs tucked up under him (as far away as possible from the veritable _mud bath_ this farm claims is a field), a diagram of a tent in one hand and a takeaway cup of tea in the order (from the Starbucks Freddie insisted on stopping at in the nearest town, despite Brian insisting that he could boil up a better Earl Grey on his little stove once they arrived).

They have been here for about forty minutes. The mass of canvas that Brian is currently wrestling with looks less tent-shaped than it did when he started.

Freddie watches, unimpressed, as Brian rips up a misplaced tent peg (and a great clod of earth with it), and sticks it in somewhere else.

“Nearly there,” he mutters to himself, “getting there – ”

“Are we really?” Freddie drawls, which gets pointedly ignored.

Freddie had offered to help, right at the start, as part of his Supportive Boyfriend campaign, but then one of the biggest spiders he’s seen in his life came crawling out of the bag of poles and pegs and that was that. It is an unspoken rule between them that where spiders go, Freddie does not. Freddie retreated to the safety of the car and has stayed there ever since.

After a great deal of huffing, and no small amount of swearing, Brian manages to get the main frame of the tent in place. He sets to work pegging the canvas over it, then tying up the entrance to the tent, before he turns to Freddie with a flourish, looking absurdly pleased with himself.

“What do you think?” he says. He’s red-faced and sweaty, his hair sticking out in every which direction, and there is a smear of dirt on the very end of his nose.

Freddie observes all these things before he turns his attention to the tent itself. It looks a bit wonky, the left side definitely sagging lower than the right side, and Freddie is fairly sure that one of the poles is broken, given the way it’s jutting so sharply against the fabric of the tent.

He likes to think of himself as a tactful person, though, so he does not mention any of this. He puts the diagram and the cup down and gingerly lowers his feet to the ground, stepping carefully over to Brian.

“It looks great, darling, well done,” he says bracingly.

Brian beams at him and slings an arm around his shoulder. Freddie tries very hard not to look at the mud on the hand that is now brushing his jacket.

As they stand there looking at the result of Brian’s hard work, the wind seems to pick up a bit; Freddie shivers, leaning into Brian’s side. His eyes fall on the tent nearest to theirs, which is a good few metres away (thankfully), but tucked in beside a mossy stone wall. Freddie eyes the two girls sitting outside it. Their hair is barely lifting in the breeze, sheltered as their little spot is by the wall.

“I do wish we’d put ours in a better place, though,” Freddie adds with a sigh.

Brian noticeably takes a deep breath before he replies. “_We_ spent too long putting it up to take it down just to move it a few inches,” he says pointedly, “I think we’ll be just fine here.”

Freddie catches his hand before he can stride off to make a great show of crawling inside the tent just to sit in it and show exactly how happy he is with where he’s put it.

“Don’t be mad at me, Bri,” he wheedles, “I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’ve done a wonderful job, darling, really. It looks very – very comfortable.”

Brian’s mouth twitches. “Comfortable,” he repeats. “Tell you what, why don’t you sort out the bed while I fetch the rest of the stuff from the car?”

“Okay,” Freddie says, because he’s seen the cardboard box labelled ‘air mattress’ and he’s never blown one up before but he doesn’t suppose it can be too hard. He scans Brian’s face to make sure he’s not still in a mood and reaches up to wipe the dirt off the end of his nose. Brian holds still to let him, then gives him a cheeky slap on the ass when Freddie turns to fetch the bed.

As it turns out, air mattresses are not always perfectly easy to put up. Freddie fumbles around with the pump that Brian has brought but he’s sure more air is leaking out of the bloody thing than getting pumped in, and it’s nowhere near as full as it needs to be when the pump suddenly decides it’s had enough anyway and packs in entirely.

“Brian!” Freddie wails.

Brian pokes his head out of the entrance of the tent. “What?”

“The pump broke!” Freddie gives it a kick, then the sorry-looking half-deflated mattress a kick too just for good measure.

Brian looks like he’s trying very hard not to smile. “Oh no,” he says. “You’ll have to blow it up some other way.”

“How?” Freddie demands. He thinks he might be providing an entertaining spectacle to the two girls outside the neighbouring tent but he can’t bring himself to care. His one contribution to this disaster trip and the only way he’s going to achieve anything vaguely resembling sleep and it’s ruined, saggy and sad on the ground before him.

“Well, you’re very good at blowing things, aren’t you, Freddie?” Brian asks innocently.

Freddie gawps at him. “I’m not touching that with my mouth!”

“You’ll touch plenty of other things with your mouth,” Brian points out.

Freddie crosses his arms and glares at Brian, as fiercely as he can manage.

Brian doesn’t bother to hide his grin this time, but he does at least get up and come over to help. “Don’t pout, baby, it’s not the end of the world,” he says, infuriatingly practically. “I was serious about your mouth, though, it’ll take a while but if the pump is broken…”

“This is the worst moment of my life,” Freddie says.

Brian drops a kiss on top of his head. “Give it a good old blow,” he says, far too cheerfully. “Lucky mattress, I say.”

“You would,” Freddie grumbles.

-

Somehow, they end up with an air mattress that actually looks like an air mattress instead of a punctured balloon. Brian drags it inside the tent and plonks it down beside their bags, then helps Freddie inside.

It’s… not too bad inside the tent, Freddie can admit that; he’s sheltered from the wind and Brian, bless him, has brought Freddie’s favourite pillow from home. He gives the sleeping bags a bit of a suspicious poke, then settles down to watch Brian as he fiddles about with the little stove just outside the mouth of the tent.

“Vegan sausage and beans?” Brian calls over his shoulder.

“Gourmet,” Freddie deadpans.

Brian flashes him a grin as he tips the sausages onto the tiny frying pan. “Feeling a bit cold?”

“I’m just prepared,” Freddie corrects him. He’s got two jumpers on, his own jacket and Brian’s coat on top of that. He may be sheltered from the wind in here, but the sun is sinking steadily and Freddie just knows it’s going to be absolutely freezing when the night draws in.

“You look very cute,” Brian tells him. “Sort of like the abominable snowman.”

“If you weren’t crouched over a flame I’d throw something at you right now.”

Brian snorts. He leaves the sausages sizzling for a moment and comes inside, plucking something out of one of his bags as he crawls over to Freddie. “Here,” he says, lifting it up – a beanie hat, which never fails to look completely ridiculous on Brian with all his hair stuffed inside it but apparently that hasn’t stopped him bringing it – “finishing touch for you.” He smooths the hat down over Freddie’s ears then sits back on his heels to admire the effect.

Freddie is pouting again, he can feel it.

Brian laughs softly and then leans in, cupping Freddie’s face in his hands. They’re warm from the fire; Freddie leans into him instinctively.

“Thank you for coming along, baby,” Brian murmurs. “I know it’s not your thing. But it means a lot to me that you came anyway.”

Then he kisses Freddie, and Freddie forgets that he’s in a tent in a muddy field dressed up like the abominable snowman, because Brian’s lips are soft against his and his stubble is scratching just gently against Freddie’s skin and Brian’s hands are so careful in the way they cradle him, like he’s something precious.

-

For all that Freddie likes to pretend he’s about ten times fancier than he actually is, he doesn’t have any complaints with the vegan sausages and beans that Brian hands to him when he’s finished cooking. He even finds the little metal tin and the plastic fork a bit quaint and sweet, which makes him worry that Brian is Getting To Him, but anyway. He eats up and there’s no lie when he tells Brian he enjoyed it.

He accompanies Brian for a trip down to the outbuildings on the edge of the field, where the farmer has set up a little washing area beside the toilet blocks. Brian glances at him like he isn’t sure if Freddie is going to complain or not when he hands him the utensils to wash, so Freddie takes great pride in not complaining once as he dutifully helps clean up.

He nips into the loos before they head back up to the tent and quickly decides the campsite toilet block may just be one of his least favourite places ever, not least because of the murky grey tiles or the large spider that lurks uncomfortably close whilst he has a very hurried piss.

By the time they get back into the tent the light is all but gone, so Brian lights a lamp and hangs it off a little hook attached to the ceiling of the tent. Shadows elongate and shrink all around them as the lamp sways between them, but once it settles down it provides a decent enough light. Freddie thinks he might even be able to sketch a bit by it, so as he changes into his pyjamas – two pairs on top of each other, he doesn’t _care_ what it looks like Brian_, stop laughing it’s warm_ – he sets his sketchbook and a couple of pencils aside.

Freddie’s phone ran out of charge far earlier in the day but Brian’s buzzes as he settles down on his side of the mattress with a book on how to take care of foxes (of all things). He picks it up and reads the text.

“Roger, laughing at us?” Freddie guesses.

“Got it in one.” Brian shakes his head at his phone, but he’s grinning, so Freddie decides he doesn’t care what Roger has to say.

“Hey!” he protests when Brian lifts his phone and snaps a quick photo of Freddie.

“I can’t deny Rog your double pyjama and beanie combination, sorry.”

Freddie huffs, but he does extend a foot and wriggle his toes to show Brian the extra fluffy socks he’s wearing. “Don’t forget these beauties.”

Brian laughs at him. “You’re going to be clinging to me all night for warmth, aren’t you?”

Freddie raises his eyebrows. “Are you complaining?”

“Not in the slightest,” Brian concedes.

“Thought so.”

For a while there’s comfortable silence between them. Freddie doodles and Brian reads. Over their soft breathing and the turn of a page or the scratch of a pencil, the only sound is the wind outside. Every so often Freddie glances up just to look at Brian, to watch the way his brow furrows as he concentrates, his unconscious smile when he reads good things.

It’s Brian who breaks the silence first, setting his book aside and covering his mouth as he yawns.

“Bed time for me,” he says. “You coming?”

Freddie nods, putting his sketchbook and pencils away as Brian turns off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. He wriggles into his sleeping bag and settles down to try and get comfortable.

‘Try’ being the operative word. The air bed seems to have sunk a bit already just from them sitting on it and even though it’s a double (or so it claims), Brian seems to be taking up an awful lot of space.

“Freddie,” Brian says tiredly, after Freddie has fidgeted for ten solid minutes.

“It’s this bloody mattress!” Freddie huffs. With an effort, he rolls over onto his stomach, then sighs deeply into his pillow.

“Just relax,” Brian murmurs. He shifts up a bit closer and pulls an arm free of his own sleeping bag so that he can rest it on Freddie’s hip.

“I am relaxed,” Freddie says through gritted teeth.

Brian leans in closer and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Relax a bit more, then,” he says, but not unkindly. He strokes Freddie’s hip, gently, in a soothing rhythm.

It does help: after a while, Freddie starts to drift off, huddled in close to Brian’s side. Judging by the way Brian’s breathing slows and deepens, so does he.

It’s all well and good, until Freddie stirs abruptly. It takes him a moment to realise what’s woken him, and when he does he groans into his pillow.

It doesn’t wake Brian; he’s still fast asleep next to Freddie, turned on his side to face him with his head pillowed on one arm and the other arm still on top of Freddie. Freddie can’t quite make out his face in the dark, only the shape of him, but he can hear his breathing.

He’s loath to wake him, but…

“Bri,” he whispers.

Nothing.

“Brian?”

Nothing.

“Brian,” Freddie tries again, a bit louder; he gives Brian a hopeful little nudge. “Bri…”

Brian gives a little groan of his own, leaning away from Freddie’s touch. “Wassup,” he mumbles into his arm.

Freddie wishes it was light enough for Brian to see Freddie’s face so that Freddie could deploy his best puppy eyes, but alas. “Brian, I need to pee,” he whispers.

“Hold it,” Brian mumbles. “Morning. Wait til.”

“I can’t.”

“Pee outside.”

“No!”

“Bush.”

“_No_, Brian! I need to go to the toilet block!”

“Freddie,” Brian groans.

“Please, Bri…”

“Just go to the toilet block, it’s not far.”

“I don’t remember where it is,” Freddie lies, because he is not going to truthfully say ‘it’s dark and I’m scared’ (not _yet_, at least, but if Brian stays stubborn he’ll pull that one out).

Brian gives the longest sigh Freddie has ever heard. Freddie waits hopefully.

Then, finally, Brian sits up and starts to clamber out of his sleeping bag. Relieved, Freddie copies him.

Brian bitches at him in an undertone all the way to the toilet block and back again, but Freddie bears it cheerfully, just glad that he got his way instead of having to speed walk down to the loos, jumping at every little noise.

When they get back to the tent, they’re both freezing. After a couple of minutes of chattering teeth, Brian gives up and sits up. Freddie sits up too, squinting in the darkness.

“What are you doing?”

Brian drags the zip of his sleeping bag down. “Come on,” he says without preamble. “Get in.”

Freddie doesn’t need telling twice; he scrambles out of his far quicker than he got into it, kicking it aside and clambering into Brian’s. It’s a bit of a tight fit but Freddie has no complaints about that all; it’s much warmer like this, their bodies pressed close together. Freddie gives a happy sigh and buries his face in Brian’s shoulder.

“The benefits of being tall,” Brian murmurs into his hair. “Extra-large sleeping bag.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love your height?” Freddie mumbles.

Brian’s chest vibrates with a soft laugh. “Frequently.”

-

Freddie sleeps much better after that. Admittedly he also wakes a lot earlier than he ever planned on doing thanks to the frankly raucous birds outside, but seeing as he wakes on Brian’s chest, he’s not complaining.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Brian says.

Freddie cracks his eyes open. He’s more or less completely on top of Brian but Brian doesn’t seem to mind; he’s got his hands crossed behind his head, leaning back into them so that he can look at Freddie without going cross-eyed.

“Morning,” Freddie rasps, raising a hand to scrub at his eyes. “Couldn’t you have gone out and shut those birds up?”

Brian laughs. “You lasted nearly an hour longer than I did.”

“You always wake freakishly early.”

“Mm, but you’re such a nice view to wake up to,” Brian purrs. He shifts beneath Freddie and Freddie’s eyebrows jump up because he is definitely not imagining the very clear interest Brian’s body is showing in him.

“One track mind,” he scolds, like he’s any better. He arches his back and gives a pleased sigh as Brian brings his hands out from under his head and slides them back inside the sleeping bag, along the length of Freddie’s back and down to his ass.

He squirms as Brian squeezes his ass, firm even through his clothes, which gives Freddie pause for thought.

He has to hide his face in Brian’s neck to fight off a sudden grin as Brian’s hands continue their exploration.

“Bri?” he whispers.

“Mmm?” Brian’s all but kneading at him at this point; he rocks his hips up against Freddie’s, letting Freddie feel how hard he is. It makes Freddie breathless, but he’s got to warn him.

“I think you’re forgetting something.”

“Lube’s in my bag,” Brian murmurs, “just above my head, you can grab it – ”

“No.” Freddie swallows back a laugh, drawing his head back to look at Brian. “No, Bri, I… I’m still wearing two pairs of pyjamas.”

Brian’s hands stop.

“For fuck’s sake,” he complains, “why couldn’t you have just slept naked – ”

“It was freezing!”

“Or at least in one pair of pyjamas like a normal person – ”

“I was being practical!”

Brian tugs ineffectively at the top layer of pyjamas Freddie is wearing. “Start getting them off, then!”

Freddie can’t hold back his snigger this time, wriggling free of Brian’s grip and sitting up as best he can in their limited space. “Bri, darling, we’re gonna have to put this on pause for a few moments while I get out of the sleeping bag to do that – ”

“I hate camping,” Brian announces.

Freddie finally frees himself from the sleeping bag and scoffs. He starts to strip off as fast as he can but wriggling out of his various layers is going to take quite a bit of effort and judging by the petulant look on Brian’s face he thinks he might have killed the mood anyway.

“Don’t say that, darling,” he says innocently, “I quite it enjoy it, myself.”

Brian throws the bottle of lube right at him, but it’s worth it for the look on his face.


End file.
